Jim
by xeyes
Summary: Harry is gravely injured in an accident, and Dumbledore must do the unthinkable to save him. M for adult nonsexual themes, weird magic, and a little violence. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue

**This takes place during the fall of Year 6. I've tried to fit it into continuity as best I could...pardon any errors (minor, I hope!)**

**Also...the plot is taken from an episode of one of my favorite TV shows. Bonus points for guessing which one. (Answer is at the beginning of the last chapter.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, blah blah blah. If any of us here did, we probably wouldn't be here in the first place.**

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A faint, cold light crept over the hills outside Hogwarts. The tendrils of illumination broke the blackness of night into the blue of early morning, and swept over the oily darkness of the lake and the small group of people standing by its edge.

The graveyard, normally deserted at this time of morning, was witnessing a small funeral. The late fall cold bit into each person, but none moved. In the center of the circle of mourners was a plain casket, lid removed.

At the head of the casket stood Albus Dumbledore. Despite the cold, he wore no coat or cloak. His eyes were red, and their usual sparkle was absent. He took a deep breath. The other mourners turned to him expectantly.

"Friends," he began, voice shaking. He hesitated a moment, then began again.

"Friends, it is never a simple or an easy thing to bid farewell for the last time. Perhaps it is that much harder, though, when saying goodbye to someone whose presence, however brief, made such a difference to the world. One who died well before his time, and one to whom we all owe so much…"

Hermione's tears fell freely, and her gaze traveled over the other faces at the graveside. Though they were all still, they were not unfeeling...even Professor Snape was having difficulties, if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth was any indication.

If only we could have given him a proper funeral instead of this hurried morning burial, she thought, but that's not possible now. Not with all that's going on…

She turned her eyes to the body in the coffin, which lay peacefully in robes of bottle-green. The same dress robes from the Yule Ball almost two years before. They were a little short for him, but under the circumstances it was the best they'd been able to do. Even in death, the black hair stuck out in all directions. He looked as if he would sit up any moment and laugh at them all for standing out in the cold.

No, she thought. That can't happen. He's gone forever, and things will never be the same.


	2. Chapter 1

Some days earlier...

Remedial Potions, Harry thought ruefully. More like Defense Against the Dark Arts for Dummies...another week, another insight into the Dark side.

At Dumbledore's request, Harry was spending an evening each week learning advanced defensive techniques, in preparation for the battle ahead. He was being trained by the two people best qualified to teach him: his former DADA teacher, Remus Lupin, and the man who had wanted that position for years, Severus Snape. Nobody on this side of the Dark knew more about its machinations than Snape, and Lupin's effectiveness as Harry's DADA professor in his third year had helped Harry save a number of lives in the years since.

At the start of term, Dumbledore had contacted Lupin and had brought him back to Hogwarts for this purpose, despite Snape's reluctance to work with him. Old habits died hard, after all. But they did eventually die, and both men understood just how important it was to work together to prepare Harry for what was to come.

They split up the instruction to match their strengths. Lupin worked with Harry on Light Side defensive spells, strengthening and mental discipline, while Snape attempted to introduce Harry to the mindset of the Dark Side so that he could better understand and anticipate the enemy.

So it was that this evening, Harry stood in Snape's classroom facing a familiar old chest as Lupin explained the casting of a slightly altered version of the Patronus spell. After weeks of reading and mental training, Harry was looking forward to actually casting a powerful spell, and he waited impatiently as his professor spoke.

"The Adme is a very effective spell," Lupin said. "It is just as protective as the Patronus spell, but also draws energy from the target back to the wizard. The caster becomes stronger, and the target weakens rapidly. The drawn power doesn't last long for the caster, and is really only useful for reinforcing the spell...but in a situation when you have to use the Adme, chances are that things are desperate enough that you're not thinking long-term at any rate."

Harry nodded. "Can the drawn power be used for anything else?"

Lupin paused briefly. "It's possible, if you cast a powerful offensive spell. But the energy drains so quickly that you have to do that almost immediately, or it will be gone before you can use it. Once you've got this spell down, we'll rehearse some battle strategies with Professor Snape so that you can turn spells around quickly without stopping to think."

"Professor...this seems...well, rather Dark."

"Very close to it, Harry," Lupin replied."The taking of power from the target of the spell is a technique normally only seen in Dark magic...and if the happy memory you were to use for the Patronus involved any sort of Dark-inspired joy, it _would_ constitute Dark magic. However, as long as the intention is good, and the thought is Light, then you shouldn't have any trouble." He smiled at Harry.

"The casting is identical to the regular Patronus, except with the addition of 'Adme' at the end of the incantation. You will have to imagine the power being taken from the subject and returning to you. That's where those visualization techniques we've been working on will really be useful. We can work up to it by practicing the Patronus spell until you've got it as strong as possible."

He patted the chest in front of him. "Luckily, Filch found this boggart hiding in a desk in a classroom over the summer. Professor McGonagall had him box it up for me just for this sort of practice. Remember what to do?"

Harry smiled nervously. "I don't think I could forget."

Lupin smiled kindly. "You did very well the first time you had to use this...Sirius would have died if you hadn't."

Harry's thoughts were written all over his face.

Lupin walked over to Harry and put an arm gently around his shoulder. "Harry, it's not your fault."

Harry looked up at him. "I'm not so sure of that...but I want to make sure that it never happens again, Professor." Lupin smiled.

"I'm sure that you don't have anything to worry about here. Do you need to take a break?"

Harry set his jaw and shook his head. "Let's do this."

Lupin's hand moved to the latch on the chest.

At that moment, Dumbledore's head appeared in the fireplace.

"My apologies for the interruption," he said, nodding at Harry. "Remus, would you mind popping up to see me for a moment? Severus and I have found something that we think might be useful, and we'd like a quick opinion."

"Of course, Professor. I'll be there shortly," Lupin replied.

Dumbledore disappeared, and Lupin turned to Harry.

"Let's take a short break, Harry. I'll be right back. While I'm gone, work on your concentration skills. You need to be able to bring up that happy memory as quickly and solidly as possible...you won't have time to build it up in the heat of battle."

And Lupin was gone.

Harry sighed. He'd been looking forward so much to finally getting to spell up something, anything...and it wasn't as if he was having any trouble dialing up a happy memory these days. The growing darkness in the world made the good times glitter in his memory like jewels against the void, and he could pluck one up and turn it around in his mind at will.

"Let's see if I can still do this," he said, and steeled himself, then motioned the chest open.

Up rose the swirl of blackness, the boggart as dementor, and its cold breath chilled Harry to the bone. But he did not flinch. He raised his wand, and objects in the room rattled and shook in their places. He focused his mind and cried "EXPECTO PATRONEM!"

White light flooded outward to block off the dementor, and as Harry gradually lowered his wand, the shield confining the dementor pushed it back into the chest, which slammed shut.

Entirely successful. Harry smiled. That was almost too easy. But he'd grown a lot since the battle by the lake over Sirius' body, and teaching the DAs had honed his own skills further...perhaps this was to be expected. And nothing was going to stop him from protecting those he cared about.

He tried it again, and managed to produce a stronger, whiter light more quickly with a little more effort. The whole room vibrated as if a heavy truck was going by, but the dementor was back in its trunk in a matter of seconds.

Harry felt energized. It was so good to be doing powerful magic again!

The Patronus was going well...wouldn't Professor Lupin be proud of him if he could...

He lifted his wand, and the trunk flew open again. The dementor floated up lazily. Harry concentrated, drawing up his power. The room shook as if it were about to implode.

"EXPECTO PATRONEM ADME!"

The blinding white light erupted from Harry's wand. As the stream of energy poured forth, a small mirror sitting at the edge of a high shelf finally vibrated off of the shelf and fell downward...

Harry didn't see the flash of light from the turning glass, didn't see the metal of the mirror frame, saw nothing but the dementor in front of him. The mirror fell in front of the dementor and straight into the path of the light. The energy hit the mirror, pushing it back, and bounced off and reflected straight back at Harry.

Harry was hit with the full force of the spell. He was thrown up and backward across the room, and his wand fell from his hand. He slammed hard into the stone wall, ten feet above the ground. His breath burst from his lips, and he fell heavily to the floor.

His head bounced once, then he lay still.

* * *

The next morning found Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin and Madam Pomfrey gathered around Harry's bedside in the hospital wing. He lay in the bed motionless, and his face was bloodless. His breathing was soft.

Madam Pomfrey bent to smooth the covers over his chest. Her hand brushed the stray black hair from his brow. His scar blazed red against the white skin.

"No change," she said as she stood up.

Dumbledore turned to Pomfrey. "May I?" he asked her.

She nodded, and he put a strong locking spell on the door to the wing before motioning the group over to the desk in the corner of the room.

"Have you found anything?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Lupin shook his head. His face was haggard. "Severus and I were in the library all night. We looked in every medical text we could find. As far as we can tell, nothing like this has happened before."

"Or at least, it has not been recorded." Snape looked even more pale and drawn than usual. "Such an injury usually seems to be accompanied by death. Survival in this state is unheard of." His gaze went back to the single occupied bed. "Leave it to Potter to beat the odds once again."

Dumbledore nodded. "Do we know of any way to repair the damaged parts of his brain?"

The other three shook their heads. "His skull was cracked, and a small piece was driven into his brain," Pomfrey said.

"And we have found no magic to repair the injured areas," Snape added.

"The damage is irreparable, then."

"Perhaps another part of his brain could be somehow made to compensate?" asked Pomfrey, hopefully, turning to Snape. Snape shook his head.

"Such a thing is apparently possible for Muggle-type injuries…but no other area of the brain can be trained to develop the ability to handle magic. The specialization of the area is too high. No other part of the brain can develop in that manner."

"So…Harry has lost his magic forever?"

"It would seem so. Yet he may live."

Lupin shook his head. "Even if he wakes up, how will he react?" He looked around the small circle of people. "Harry's spent his entire life either being harried by Muggles or bearing the burden of being the Boy Who Lived. Nobody is more conscious of the need to eliminate Voldemort than Harry. He's thought of nothing else since Sirius' death. He can't be the savior of the wizarding world without his magic, and who knows how he would be able to handle living as a squib or as a Muggle, especially if he could not fulfill what he believes to be his purpose. He's strong, very strong…but every strength has its limit."

"What can we do, then?" Pomfrey asked.

"Nothing, it seems," Dumbledore replied.

They turned to look at the still, white body. How strange, Snape thought, to see him lying there so motionless…normally, he's a blur of activity, but not now. A unique student…none like him...

Lupin saw the subtle change in Snape's expression before anyone else did.

"Severus…what is it?" he asked. They all turned back around.

"There may be … one more option," Snape said slowly.


	3. Chapter 2

"Another option? Out with it!"

Snape frowned. "It's just a story…a myth…I'm not sure if it's even possible. Very dark magic indeed. But it may be our only chance to bring him back."

"What is this story, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

Snape spoke slowly. "In one of my oldest books, I once read that there is a very rare species of flobberworm. Only a few of this particular type of worm exist at any time, and finding one is nearly impossible."

"What does the worm do?" asked Pomfrey.

"It's more a question of what it can become," Snape replied. "This flobberworm has the ability to mimic other creatures quite closely. This helps it survive."

"That doesn't help us here," said Lupin. "We don't need a decoy of Harry, we need Harry himself."

"Impatient as always, Remus," Snape returned, but without his usual tone. "The creature's ability is so developed that, under the correct conditions, the worm can transform itself into a perfect copy of another being, correct down to the smallest detail. Once injected with another being's blood, it can duplicate skin, bone, organs, hair…everything."

The room was deathly silent except for Snape's measured tones.

"A complex magical ceremony is required to complete the transformation," he continued. "Who knows how this was discovered…not the sort of thing one stumbles across by accident. At any rate, the flobberworm transforms itself into a perfect replica of the other being. However, this…clone…ages very quickly, and lives only a short while before dying of old age."

Dumbledore was nodding. "I believe I see what you are getting at, Severus. We can't repair Harry's brain, but we can provide him with new brain tissue to replace what was damaged."

Pomfrey looked from one man to the other, her mouth agape. "Do you realize what you'd be doing? You'd be growing him just to take out part of his brain! You'd be using him … for parts! He'd live and die just to give Harry back his magic!" She turned to Lupin, who stood silently, deep in thought. "Remus! We can't do this!"

Lupin turned tired eyes to her. "Yes, that's exactly what we'd be doing," he replied. "I don't like this, not at all. It's very wrong, for so many reasons…but I don't think that we really have a choice here."

"Remus!"

"If Harry's ability to fight Voldemort is gone, then the wizarding world is lost. We have no choice, Poppy. I don't like this any more than you do, but if we don't get Harry back, we're all as good as dead."

* * *

After such a turbulent twelve hours, it was a source of some relief to the four when Hagrid once again proved predictable.

"If anyone will know where to find one of these flobberworms," said Dumbledore, "Hagrid will." And he had.

It took him the better part of the day, but one solo trip to the forest later, a weary and dirty Hagrid carried a wooden crate up to the hospital wing. The wing was empty except for Madam Pomfrey. She waved her wand at a bookshelf in a corner, which slid aside to reveal a small doorway.

Hagrid bent to enter the room, and stopped suddenly when he caught sight of the bed with Harry in it. Pomfrey bumped softly into his back.

"Sorry," he said softly, and moved into the room.

Inside the room, the others peered with open curiosity as Hagrid pried off the lid of the crate. Inside lay an ordinary-looking flobberworm, doing nothing but…sitting there.

"This is rather anticlimactic," Snape muttered.

Hagrid nodded. "Flobberworms aren't the most entertainin' of creatures, Professor, but sure can be useful." Snape nodded.

Dumbledore peered at it more closely.

"How do you know that this is the sort we need, Hagrid?"

Hagrid smiled; he was in his element. "See that little patch of blue right there?"

"There, near its tail?"

"Well, as close to a tail as it has. But yes, there. That's how you know."

"Let's get this over with," said Lupin. Dumbledore nodded. Pomfrey extracted a little bit of Harry's blood with a syringe, and returned to the crate.

Hagrid held the flobberworm down in its crate as Pomfrey quickly injected the blood into the blue spot.

"It's done," she said. Hagrid put the lid back on the crate and turned to leave.

"Where are you going, Hagrid?" came Dumbledore's soft voice.

Hagrid turned around, surprised. "I … uh … I thought that you wouldn't want me here for this. Not bein' a wizard and all."

Lupin put his hand on Hagrid's enormous arm. "You care for Harry as much as any of us. You belong here, if you'll stay."

Hagrid could only nod his huge head, and he pushed the crate next to Harry's bed. His eyes rested for a moment on Harry's still face, then he turned and went to a corner of the room.

Three wizards and one witch positioned themselves around the bed and the crate. Their eyes met, and they raised their wands. They started to intone the words of the ancient ritual in unison. A cone of light formed over the bed and another over the crate. As they worked, the cones grew and changed color, first one, then the other, then the first again. Sweat broke out on their brows, one after another, yet the cones continued to grow, until after several minutes both turned white and began to move together.

The chanting reached a fever pitch, and as the four voices finally cried "UNUM!", the cones merged and the room was filled with blinding white light.

Then, it was all gone, and they were left standing in a little room around a bed and a crate, staring at each other, wrung out almost to the point of collapse.

Dumbledore moved to the crate and delicately lifted the lid. Everyone crowded around. Inside, the flobberworm still lay motionless, but its color had changed to a brilliant gold, and the inside of the box was suffused in a blue glow.

"It's … beautiful," said Pomfrey.

"It is that," said Hagrid.

"What now?" asked Lupin.

"We wait," answered Dumbledore. "Now, it's dark out, and everyone should get some rest."

* * *

Hermione was getting impatient. And suspicious.

It was the second morning since Harry's accident, and she hadn't heard anything about his condition except that "he was unconscious, but should wake up soon". "Soon" wasn't soon enough for her.

"Why aren't they letting us see him?" she asked Ron on the way to breakfast.

"I don't know," answered Ron.

"We've been through this before. We were always allowed to sit with him even if he was asleep. Something's wrong."

"Hermione, I don't know, really," said Ron. "I'm sure that Pomfrey is taking good care of him. There's nothing we can do. If there were, we'd have been told."

"Well, she may think we can't do anything, but I'm not so sure," Hermione replied. "I'm going up to see him after Potions this afternoon. Even if he can just hear our voices, he'll know that we haven't forgotten him. Are you going to come along?"

"Hermione, we really shouldn't…"

Hermione stopped walking abruptly. "Ron, you're always telling me that we can't be afraid of doing what needs to be done. Who's afraid now?"

Ron grimaced; she had him there. "Fine. But just for a little bit."

Snape seemed oddly preoccupied during double Potions that afternoon. Hermione couldn't remember the last time that Potions had gone from start to finish without any points being given or taken at all. Even Malfoy seemed to have noticed when his mere presence wasn't enough to earn Slytherin five points; his pout was ill-concealed.

Something is definitely up, she thought. I've never seen Snape so distracted.

Immediately after class, she and Ron dropped their bags off at Gryffindor Tower and made their way to the hallway outside the hospital wing. Ron had borrowed Harry's map, and they made sure the hall was clear before they crept up to the locked door.

"Nobody inside but Harry," he said. "That's weird…Pomfrey's almost always there."

Hermione uttered "Alohomora", and they pushed the door open and crept in. All was quiet. Harry lay silently in one of the beds on the right of the room, his head wrapped in yards and yards of gauze; they could see that he was deeply unconscious.

Then Hermione looked toward the back corner.

"Look at that bookcase," she whispered. They could both see the light coming from the doorway next to it. They moved quietly toward the doorway, and peered through.

Dumbledore was sitting next to a small bed with high sides. He was talking softly to the bed, and after a moment he reached down into it and withdrew a small bundle.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, do join us," he said, and the two nearly jumped out of their skins. "Since you've found us, you may as well come in."

They looked at each other sheepishly, then entered the room and stood one on each side of Dumbledore's chair. With a smile, he turned the bundle to them, and they gasped. Inside was the face of a little baby with piercing green eyes. The black fuzz on the baby's head was already untidy.

They stared at Dumbledore, speechless.

"You may be wondering what this is."

All they could do was nod. Dumbledore conjured up a pair of overstuffed chintz chairs and a small table with a pot of tea and three cups.

"Please seat yourselves. Alas, this explanation will not be a short one." And he began.

* * *

Some time later, Ron sat, full of tea, as Dumbledore finished talking. Hermione sat rocking the baby. He smiled up at her toothlessly, and she felt her heart break.

"So this little baby is going to grow up, live its life, and die within the space of a few weeks?" she asked.

Dumbledore nodded. The baby grabbed her finger with its little hand.

"But it will live most of its life as a squib," said Ron. "Once it's Harry's age, you'll be taking out the magical part of its brain and transplanting it into Harry."

Lupin had arrived during Dumbledore's explanation, and was leaning against the doorframe. "Yes. Then Harry should be back to his old self."

"But won't the transplanted tissue age too quickly as well?" Hermione asked. She tugged lightly on the little hand, and the hand pulled back as the baby's face broke out into a smile that she recognized instantly.

"An excellent question, as usual, Miss Granger," Dumbledore responded. "Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey inform us that the tissue will stabilize after the transplant and will age normally. It will be as if Harry had never been injured."

"And then what happens to..."

"We don't have a name for him yet," said Lupin. "After that, he will grow older and live out his life at a very fast pace…about two years per day or so."

"So he'll have weeks more where he has to exist without any magic at all," Ron said.

"That's a terrible fate," Hermione frowned.

"Better than the fate of the entire wizarding world should Harry be unable to fight Voldemort," Snape said as he entered the room. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. I am only surprised that it took you this long to make your way into here."

"I tried to stop her," said Ron helplessly.

"That must be a first," returned Snape, again without his usual iciness.

"Severus, our conversation has brought up a pressing issue," Dumbledore said, as Hermione handed him the squirming bundle. "We need to have a name for this baby."

Snape nodded. "It would not be reasonable to call it Harry." They all nodded agreement.

"James, then?" suggested Hermione. "That's his middle name."

Lupin shook his head. "Please…not James."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said, turning red. "I didn't mean…"

"It's alright, Hermione," Lupin said.

"How about Jim?" Ron suggested. "Or Jimmy."

Dumbledore nodded. "Jimmy it is, then. Welcome, little Jimmy Potter."

* * *

"Wormtail!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"I have not been able to touch Potter's mind for some days now. Is there any news about him?"

"None yet, my lord."

"Have our contact at Hogwarts find out why this is."


	4. Chapter 3

Although he would never admit it, Draco Malfoy was at a loss.

Normally, he and his fellow Slytherins would be rejoicing at Harry's absence. Not having the Golden Boy around meant that Draco had the spotlight all to himself, while Weasley and the mudblood Granger moped and worried. It was everything he'd wished for for all of these years.

But something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something wasn't right.

So, when he heard the two of them whispering in urgent tones in a deserted hallway on his way back to the Slytherin common room after dinner, it was with more than idle curiosity that he moved silently into hearing range of their conversation.

"It's just horrid, Ron," Hermione was whispering. "To have to grow up and live like that…"

"And as a squib after age seventeen. I can't imagine what that would be like."

"Oh, Muggles do fine without magic, so he'd be OK. What I worry about is what happens when he realizes that he's lost his magic for the rest of his life."

Ha! Draco thought. Potter's lost his magic, then? No wonder they're keeping him hidden away like that…

"What little life he'll have left. Weeks? Can you imagine growing up, growing old, and dying in a matter of weeks? And doing it knowing that your sole purpose in life is to exist so that someone else can live?"

Draco inched closer.

"I saw a Muggle movie late one night a long time ago. Terrible movie. The idea was that rich people could pay to have themselves cloned so that when they got old or had an accident or something, the clones would have the spare parts they needed to get them healthy again. One of these clones tries to escape. It was horrid. I really felt for the poor man."

"Are they really … you know, people?"

"Ron Weasley! How can you say that?"

"Sssssh!"

"They're as much people as you or me. Snape says that as he grows older, he'll remember more and more of Harry's life, so he'll be just like you or me."

"Until he dies at the ripe old age of six weeks or whatever."

"After he has his magic taken away and put in Harry's head. Poor Jimmy."

Draco slipped away, and made his way to the door of the hospital ward. He poked his head inside. Pomfrey seemed to have gone to bed already, as the ward was deserted except for one bed.

He walked up to the bed, and stared at the white face on the pillow. Harry's scar seemed that much more prominent against the bloodless skin. His breathing was regular and shallow. But Draco knew from what he'd heard that this wasn't the whole story. He raised his head and looked around.

"Aperti," he murmured, and a bookcase slid sideways to reveal a small doorway. His eyebrow raised in surprise, and he crossed the room.

He put his head through the door, and his jaw dropped open.

* * *

For the next few days, the little room was home to a very rapidly growing little boy. Pomfrey found that she had to enlarge his clothing every several hours to accommodate Jimmy's rapid growth. Despite his unusual origins, he seemed the picture of perfect health.

When Jimmy had grown to about four years old or so, Dumbledore stopped by to test his magical levels.

"Poppy, the boy is just as powerful as Harry," he beamed as he finished the last test. "Perhaps even more powerful, since he's been properly looked after. Imagine what Harry could have been if the Dursleys had taken care of him." He bounced little Jimmy on his knee, and the boy laughed.

"He is a darling little thing," Pomfrey agreed.

"Where's Duddy?" asked little Jim.

"Dudley and your aunt and uncle aren't here, Jimmy," Pomfrey said, lifting the boy off of Dumbledore's lap and placing him at his little table. "You're staying with us for a little while."

Jim nodded. "That's good. I like you. I don't want Duddy."

"Well, we're glad to have you here, Jimmy," Dumbledore said as he sat down in a small chair next to the boy. "You can stay as long as you want." Pomfrey looked at him sharply as she put a glass of milk and a plate of cookies on the table, but Dumbledore ignored her and smiled at the black-haired boy.

"Really, Uncle Albus?"

"Really, Jimmy."

He felt little arms wrap themselves around his waist. "Thank you, Uncle Albus."

Dumbledore smiled in a way he hadn't smiled in decades.

* * *

The next day, it was time to start Jimmy's schooling. Lupin began the morning with Jimmy in his little room, with a stack of books. As it turned out, all that Lupin had to do was to remind Jimmy of things, and he would remember. He remembered how to read, how to add numbers…how to do all of the things that Harry had been taught in school.

Now that's magic at a level that none of us will ever understand, Lupin thought, as he led Jimmy through a picture book of animals of the world. The boy was engrossed in the book, naming the animals and giggling as the pictures moved and made animal noises. His black hair stood up in every direction and could not be cut or tamed, and the green eyes missed nothing.

So like his father, but with his mother's eyes. But everybody tells Harry that…told him, Lupin corrected himself.

"Uncle Remus?"

The phrase sounded odd to Lupin's ears for reasons he couldn't quite define.

"Yes, Jimmy?"

"Can you tell me about my parents?"

Lupin was unable to speak for a moment. Then, he cleared his throat. After all, he thought, I suppose they're his parents too.

"I don't remember them, Uncle Remus, and I want to know what they were like."

"Well, young Jimmy, I knew both of your parents well while we were all at Hogwarts together. That's where we are now."

"What's Hogwarts?"

"It's where we went to school. You look just like your father, you know…"

And so the morning passed. That evening, as he prepared for bed, Lupin found himself feeling more whole than he had in years.

* * *

That same afternoon, it was Snape's turn to watch over Jimmy and teach him…a duty which he would have gladly given to anyone else if he could have.

At least the little beast has learned his table manners, Snape thought as he entered the little room. Jimmy sat at his table (which Pomfrey had resized for him), finishing up the last of his lunch.

"Good morning, Uncle Severus. Want some of my egg?"

Jimmy couldn't have known, of course, that the look on "Uncle Severus's" face at that moment was one that had never been witnessed by mortal man before, and likely never would again.

"No, thank you, Mr. Potter. I have already eaten." Something inside him made him add, "But thank you for offering."

Jimmy smiled at him, and finished his egg. Snape cleaned up the dishes with a quick "Scourgify" and sat down in the chair opposite his charge.

"What are we going to study today?" Jimmy asked.

"Geography, mathematics, science, and history," Snape replied, sorting through his books.

Jimmy nodded. "I like mathematics. Things make sense."

Snape just stared. Was this really a clone of the Harry Potter that he knew?

"Can I ask you a question, Uncle Severus?"

"You just have, Mr. Potter."

Yes, that's the familiar grimace. A Potter through and through.

"I have another question."

"You may ask it."

"Why don't you like me?"

Snape stopped his sorting. The green eyes were staring at him as if they could bore holes into his soul. He realized that he would have to be truthful with the boy.

"Why do you think that I don't like you?"

"You don't call me Jimmy, you call me Mr. Potter, and you don't smile at me and you act all funny when you're around me."

"If you think I don't like you, why do you think I would want to answer your question?"

Jimmy thought for a moment or two.

"I don't know if you will. But I want to ask you. Maybe you will. I don't think that you would lie about important things."

Fair enough. It wasn't the boy's fault that his father and … brother annoyed him down to his last nerve.

"Mr…Jimmy, I neither like nor dislike you. My manner is the same around all people. I do not know you well enough to have developed an opinion about you one way or the other."

"What can I do to make you like me? I want you to like me."

"You cannot do anything to _make_ me like you, Jimmy. You cannot force anyone to like or to dislike you. However, if you are well-behaved and not unpleasant to be around, I will continue to tolerate your presence."

Jimmy nodded at him. "Thank you, Uncle Severus."

Snape put down the stack of books and papers and stared at the boy for a moment.

"Before we begin, I want to explain something to you. Other people have their own thoughts and feelings, and it is nearly impossible to force them to change those thoughts and feelings. However, you can do things that can encourage them to like you or to dislike you. If you want people to like you, treat them well and be considerate of their needs. If the person is worthy of your respect, he or she will do the same. And if you do as your elders ask you to, they will respect your needs and wishes."

Jimmy was listening with rapt attention.

"So far, you have been courteous and responsible. If you continue to do so, I will treat you with the same consideration, and we will get along well."

"I'd like that, Uncle Severus."

Snape nearly jumped out of his skin when Jimmy wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. He was even more surprised when his arms hesitantly went around the boy and returned the embrace.

What have I become? he thought to himself.

* * *

**A/N: The movie Hermione refers to above is "Parts: The Clonus Horror". Those of you who watched Season Eight of Mystery Science Theater 3000 will recognize the plot. Those of you who didn't...well, as Hermione says, it's a terrible movie.**


	5. Chapter 4

That evening, Dumbledore came to visit. He found Jimmy and Snape deep in conversation, and stood in the door watching in amusement as Snape patiently explained the differences between Picts, Normans and Celts.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, "it is good to see you making such progress with the boy."

Snape replied, "We are making great strides, Albus."

"1066? Isn't that a bit advanced for a boy his age?"

"Not for him, it would seem."

Dinner passed very pleasantly for the three of them, as they discussed wizarding history instead of Muggle history. Jimmy, of course, didn't know any of this yet, and was fascinated by tales of the wizards of old and of the four founders of Hogwarts.

After dinner, Snape excused himself to attend to grading his students' potion vials, and Dumbledore and Jimmy treated themselves to a large-sized ice cream sundae.

"Uncle Albus?"

"Yes, Jimmy?"

"I don't understand something."

"What do you not understand?"

"I live here, with you, Uncle Remus, Uncle Severus, and Aunt Poppy, but I remember Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley. But they're not here, so how can I remember them? And why do they call me Harry, not Jimmy?"

Dumbledore sat silently, sucking on his ice cream spoon.

"I remember a cupboard under the stairs, and Mrs. Figg's cats, and being hungry sometimes. But there's no cupboard here, and no Mrs. Figg, and I'm not hungry after I eat. It's like I'm remembering things that never happened to me. But it feels like they did…is there something wrong with me, Uncle Albus?"

Dumbledore put down his spoon. He took Jimmy's spoon from his hand, and put it on the table.

"No, Jimmy, there's nothing wrong with you. I have to show you something, though. You may be frightened by what you see, but it will explain things. Are you up to that now?"

Jimmy sat up a little straighter in his chair, and his green eyes were steely.

"Yes, Uncle Albus."

Dumbledore stood up, and the boy did the same. Dumbledore took Jimmy's hand, and started walking toward the door. Jimmy shrank back.

"Aunt Poppy told me that I couldn't go through that door."

"It's OK, Jimmy. I say that you can."

They walked out into the dark hospital ward. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, and the sheets on the empty beds glowed like ghosts in the darkness. Dumbledore led the boy toward one of the beds.

The boy in the bed was white and still as usual, and the heavy bandages did not completely cover the spiky black hair.

Dumbledore watched the young boy closely as he looked at the face, the hair and then the bandages. He put a hand to his own hair, and then touched the black strands on the pillow.

"He's … me, isn't he?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Yes, Jimmy, he is."

"And the things I remember…they're his, aren't they?"

"Yes. You remember what he remembers, and also what you have done. You have his memories and yours."

"He's hurt."

"He's hurt very badly, Jimmy. He can't wake up, and he has no magic."

Jimmy's eyes were very wide. "He lost his magic?"

"He did. This is a very bad thing. He's the most powerful wizard of his generation, and he has a very important job to do. He can't do it without his magic. That's why you're here."

"I'm going to help him get his magic back?"

"Yes, you are."

"How am I going to do that?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"I'll explain that tomorrow. It's a long explanation. For now, know that you are very important."

"Because of him."

"No, not just because of him. That's part of it. But you're important because of you, too. We love you, and we're very glad that you're here."

He wrapped his arms around the little boy, who turned to him after a moment and hugged him tightly...still keeping his eyes on the face on the bed.

* * *

The next day, Remus decided that the morning's lessons would be about the magical world. 

"After all," he told the eight-year-old boy in front of him, "you're remembering what you learned in school already. So, I may as well teach you things you haven't learned yet."

By lunchtime, Jimmy had a good working knowledge of how the magical world worked, and even had a couple of simple spells under his belt. Both Lupin and Dumbledore smiled when Jimmy levitated his grilled-cheese sandwich up to his mouth and took a bite.

"Wandless," Dumbledore commented. "Very good, Jimmy. Impressive."

"Thanks, Uncle Albus. This is much more fun than being a Muggle."

"We live in a very different world," said Lupin. "Of the three of us, you're probably the best qualified to know just how different."

"I can do almost anything if I learn enough magic, right?"

"Yes, almost anything," Dumbledore replied.

"But I can't fix Harry. Not with magic."

"None of us can fix Harry with magic. We wish we could. But we need your help."

Jimmy set his jaw resolutely. Lupin remembered...so many things.

"What do I need to do, Uncle Albus?"

Dumbledore told him.

* * *

Jimmy was rather quiet for the rest of the day. Snape noted that he seemed to be preoccupied when he wasn't working on his spells. 

"Uncle Severus, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"Uncle Albus and Uncle Remus explained things to me at lunch today. How I got here, how Harry got hurt, and what's going to happen to me."

"Yes, they told me that they had."

Jimmy sat forward in his chair and picked up a pencil. He started to fidget.

"I'm going to lose my magic in a few days. It's going to be taken out of my head and put into Harry's because he has an important job to do. They didn't tell me what. I'm supposed to remember that tomorrow."

Snape sat quietly.

"I'm going to live a for few more weeks, without magic. I'll be a ... a squib here. Nobody even knows I'm here. I'm going to live in this room until I grow old and die. Is that right?"

"Yes, Jimmy. That's correct."

"I'm going to miss magic."

Jimmy sat still for a moment, facing away from Snape. Snape waited. Then, Jimmy turned to face him.

"I don't know if you can tell me this, but I want to know. Why me? I mean, I know _why_...that's why I'm here. But..."

Snape shook his head. "I can't answer that, Jimmy. I don't know if there's a good answer for that. I'm sorry."

"That's OK, Uncle Severus."

* * *

The next morning passed uneventfully. Jimmy continued his lessons with Lupin, and around midmorning asked if he could go out to the ward again. Lupin stood with him as he looked down at the face, which looked much the same as the day before. 

The boy standing by the bed had lengthened and grown into a normal, healthy ten-year-old boy. Lupin found it jarring to see two versions of the same Harry Potter before him, a seventeen-year old almost-man and a ten-year old boy. In a few days, when Jimmy caught up to Harry...well, he would think about that later.

As lunch with Lupin, Snape and Dumbledore was ending, Jimmy suddenly looked at Dumbledore.

"I remember now, Uncle Albus," he said breathlessly. "I remember Hagrid coming to get me, and learning that I'm a wizard, and going to Diagon Alley, and meeting Ron and Hermione on the train. It's coming back to me."

"Good, Jimmy," Dumbledore responded. "You're starting to remember all about the rest of us, I'm sure. Would you like to see your friends?"

"Yes, please," said Jimmy.

"Very well, then. Gentlemen, have Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley report here at dinnertime. I think we are in need of a feast."

Dinner that night was held around a big table set up in the main hospital ward. Jimmy knew that Harry had never seen such a feast until he'd gotten to Hogwarts, and they all did justice to the excellent and abundant food. Ron and Hermione were transparently happy to see Jimmy, and the three of them chatted like the trio of old times. It was becoming more and more difficult to remember that the black-haired boy sitting before them was not Harry Potter...whose presence was palpable, even though his bed had been moved behind a screen for the evening.

"Tell me, Ron," Jimmy said around a mouthful of roast chicken.

"What?" Ron said, similarly. Hermione looked from one to the other.

"Ugh, guys," she said. "Chew your food. That's just...ugh."

"Sorry, Hermione," they both said.

Jimmy chewed, swallowed, and said, "Ron, are we still good friends when I'm...uh, Harry's your age?"

Ron nodded. "A few bumps here and there, but we haven't killed each other yet."

"Not for lack of trying to get yourselves killed," Lupin pointed out.

"Dumb luck," Snape added. "Your innate talents for getting into trouble are remarkable."

"Hey, that's not really our fault," Ron sputtered.

"It's Voldemort. He keeps trying to..."

All eyes turned to Jimmy, who had stopped in mid-sentence.

"I remember some of it. He's trying to kill me...Harry, and Harry has to stop him." He turned to Snape. "I remember not trusting you. I'm sorry."

"At the time, the reaction was understandable."

"Thanks. I'm still sorry," Jimmy replied. Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncertainly; Lupin caught their eyes, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Now was not the time for that particular subject.

"That's Harry's mission that he has to complete...that he has to stop him. No wonder he needs his magic."

"Harry is going to need every bit of magic he can muster to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "He was nearly killed a year and a half ago. If he loses the next time..."

"We are all dead," Lupin said flatly.

Jimmy nodded.

"And if I give up my magic, I can help stop him."

"Yes, Jimmy," said Lupin. Jimmy looked closely at Lupin's face.

"I can feel it, Uncle Remus," he said. "Others have given up much more than I will have to, haven't they?"

Lupin couldn't speak. He nodded.

"Then I will do what I have to do...I guess I'm lucky in that all I have to give up is magic."

The dinner broke up later, after Ron and Hermione had told Jimmy all about their adventures with Harry over their years at Hogwarts. After the room had emptied and the others had retired for the evening, he padded in bare feet over to the bed behind the screen, and sat down by the side. He took the cold hand in his. Harry's eyelids flickered, but he did not wake.

"Don't worry," Jimmy told the quiet figure, stroking the hair gently with his other hand. "I'll take care of them. We both will. We won't let them down, will we?"

* * *

The next day, things fell apart completely. 


	6. Chapter 5

Dumbledore was in his study the next morning when Pomfrey's face appeared in his fireplace. He knew immediately from the look on her face that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Poppy, what is it?" he asked.

Her face was replaced in the fireplace by Snape's, and Dumbledore saw just how serious the situation was.

"Albus...we were mistaken. Please join us here..."

But Dumbledore was already gone.

As he entered the little room, he saw Pomfrey and Snape gathered around a sleeping Jimmy. The three of them exited the room and went over to Pomfrey's desk.

"I was checking him as I do every morning," Pomfrey said. "Severus saw..."

"The boy has very high levels of activity in ... the area of interest," Snape broke in. "Unusually high. He has the makings of a very powerful wizard, which is no surprise."

Albus waited patiently.

"What is a surprise is how integrated the activity is with the rest of his brain."

"We're not going to be able to separate the tissue without ... severe damage to the non-magical brain areas," Pomfrey said.

Dumbledore looked from one to the other, aghast.

"You mean..."

"We can extract the tissue," Snape said slowly, "but it will kill him."

* * *

Dumbledore sat in one of the almost-full-size chairs in Jimmy's room. Jimmy sat in the other chair, elbows on knees, head in hands. They did not speak for some time.

Jimmy lifted his head after a while, and stared out of the single window in the room that overlooked the courtyard below, where students were walking and running between classes. Their laughter and yelling carried through the window into the little room.

Finally, Jimmy inhaled sharply, and sat back in his chair.

"That's it, then."

"Yes."

"No chance of..."

"It doesn't seem so."

They sat in silence.

"Please...leave me alone."

Dumbledore stood and left the room.

He wasn't very surprised when Lupin rushed into his office a few hours later, breathless, babbling that Jimmy had disappeared from the hospital wing.

"Don't worry about him," Dumbledore said. "He'll be back."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was in the girls' bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, to be exact, which was why he'd been able to stay in there for ... however long it had been. He'd lost track after he gave into his frustration and anger and slid to the floor of the fifth stall on the right, sobbing and pounding the walls. Myrtle had splashed down into the plumbing a while back after she found him uninteresting, and he'd been left alone. He knew he had as long as he needed; even if the bathroom hadn't been declared off-limits since the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets had been found in there at the end of his second year, Myrtle's whining was enough to make people avoid the place like the plague.

Now, he sat on the floor, exhausted and beyond emotion. Just a few more minutes to collect himself...it must be near lunchtime. Tweedledee and Tweedledumber will be looking for leadership again...they can't even eat by themselves...useless...Weasley might be a dirt-poor dolt and Granger a goody-goody Mudblood, but at least Potter has _useful_ friends...

He froze as someone hurried into the room, footsteps echoing on the stone tiles. The feet ran past the enormous fountain-like sink that led to the Chamber of Secrets (so long ago, it seemed...) and he saw a figure dart into...the stall across from him! Damn! Busted! He silently cursed and slid further back into the deep stall.

It turned out that he needn't have worried. Whoever was opposite him was far too upset to notice him, and started showing Draco just what he'd probably looked like fifteen minutes before. He felt a twinge of embarrassment at being so privy to the other person's pain (a boy, from the sounds of his howling), but he couldn't move without revealing himself. Who knows, he thought, it might be useful ammunition for some tormenting later. If he was up to it...these days, it wasn't as fun as it used to be.

Eventually, the other boy slumped to the floor, legs spread straight out. His head fell back, into the dim light entering through the stall door, and Draco caught his breath. He knew that hair. The other boy heard the sharp intake of air, and sat up immediately.

"Who's there?"

A beat, then:

"Potter? That you?"

"Malfoy..."

The two boys slowly stood and exited their stalls, and faced each other. Faces were swollen from tears, and throats were raw from shouting. Both were drained to the point of exhaustion. Still, they tried...

"Crying in the bathroom, Potter? The girls' bathroom? My, my, what would dear old Dumbledore say?"

"He'd probably ask you why you were doing the same thing."

"You? What could Dumbledore's Golden Boy, the savior of the wizarding world, The Boy Who Lived, have to cry about? Little Mister Perfect?"

"None of your business, Malfoy. Anyway, why are _you_ here? Mister Richer-Than-Thou, whose father can buy him anything his heart desires? Who lives to make my life a living hell?"

"Typical, Potter. Self-centered as always. Not everything is about you, you know."

"Nor about you."

They stared each other down for a few moments, then the smaller boy sighed.

"Mal...Draco...this is stupid."

"Don't call me that."

"I don't have any reason to hate you. And you don't have any reason to hate me. So let's drop the tough-guy acts."

"What are you talking about? You have plenty of reason to hate me."

"Not me. I don't know you."

"Have you gone mental, Potter?"

"No," and Jimmy stared Draco straight in the eye. "You know what's going on...if you didn't, you would have asked me why I look twelve when I'm supposed to be seventeen."

Draco nodded.

"So, what _is_ your name, anyway? Not Harry, presumably."

"No. I'm Jimmy."

"Of course."

"And so, you're Draco."

"Yeah, ok. Fair enough."

They stood for a moment, sizing each other up. Then, the smaller boy spoke.

"We've both got a problem."

"Right. I can't tell anybody about this without being found out, and the same goes for you."

"But I have no idea why you're in here, and you can probably guess why I am."

"Yeah," Draco said. They had wandered over to the windows by the huge sinks, and sat down on a bench along the wall. "You're dead in a few weeks."

He immediately regretted his bluntness, but Jimmy just shrugged.

"Worse than that. A few days."

Draco stared. "Why? From what Granger and Weasley said..."

Jimmy's head snapped around. "What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. I overheard them in the hallway shortly after you were ... born, I guess."

"So you know what is going to happen to me?"

"I think so."

"Did you know that it's going to kill me?"

Draco's eyes grew wide.

"No, I didn't know..."

"I have two more days after this."

Draco didn't know what to say. And, this was getting interesting. So he sat quietly.

"I didn't sign up for this!" Jimmy smashed his fist into the wooden bench. Draco jumped.

He stood up and started circling the sinks. Draco watched him.

"I don't...I don't want...I don't know how to say it. It's just too much. I'm tired of it...so tired." He stopped for a moment. "I wonder if he is, too. I don't know how he feels about this...just how he used to feel. I don't even always know if these are his feelings or mine. I'm him and I'm me...whatever that is."

He stopped and gripped the nearby sink edge with both hands, leaning over it. He turned to face Draco, and his eyes were wild.

I hope he isn't going to be sick, Draco thought.

"I just want to not be him any more. I'm not even supposed to exist without him. You're not supposed to know that I exist." He stood up, and his fingers traced the tap in front of him. Draco realized that it was the same one that had opened the Chamber of Secrets. "He's Harry Potter. What about me? What would they call me? The Boy Who Died for the Boy Who Lived? Well, nobody's going to call me anything, not ever, since I will just disappear and nobody will ever know I was here."

He sat down again.

"This whole thing...it's not my problem. It's his. But it's my job to fix it for him so he can go save the world. Again."

"Yeah. He does that a lot," Draco agreed.

The two boys sat, wrung out, on the bench.

"You know, Malfoy, you're not all bad. You haven't gotten snarky once."

"Same to you."

"Thanks," Jimmy said.

"Potter," Draco said slowly, "I'll remember you. So will Gr...Hermione, and Ron, and Dumbledore and Snape and Lupin and Pomfrey..."

"For what I was to Harry."

"No," Draco said, "for what you were to _them_. Face it, you fatuous ass...they do care about you, and not just as some tissue farm."

"How do you know that?"

Draco laughed. "That's just how they are. Even Snape. I know because I've known you for all of ten minutes and I like you, and if I can like you, then anybody can. Too bad you're not..."

"Not what?"

"A Slytherin."

"I'm not anything." Jimmy suddenly looked very young.

"That's not true. You're Jimmy."

"I don't know what that means."

"You've got some time left to find out."

Jimmy looked at the older boy, and smiled tiredly.

"Why are you here, anyway?"

Draco hesitated, then said, "Obligations, Jimmy. Hate 'em." He saw the inquisitive look in Jimmy's eyes. There were some things he couldn't tell him, even if he was going to be dead in a few days. Draco shrugged.

"Everybody's got problems when they're seventeen."

* * *

"Albus? He's back, safe and sound."

"Of course he is."


	7. Chapter 6

After dinner that night, the hospital wing was quiet, and the moon shone through the windows as it had every night. Jimmy's footsteps padded over to the bed in the main wing again. He sat on the edge and took the hand in his again.

"I have to borrow something of yours. I'll return it safe, don't you mind. You know I will."

The face remained still.

"Nothing against you. But I have to do this. You'd understand, I know."

Jimmy crept out of the room into the hallway outside. He cast a small silence charm, and made his way down the hall.

The Fat Lady peered at him curiously. "Potter?" she asked.

He nodded. He was, after all.

"Pastorini," he said (thank goodness for Hermione wanting him to know he could count on her any time of day or night!), and the Fat Lady slid sideways.

He moved silently through the Gryffindor common room, and up the stairs to the sixth years' dormitory. There was the trunk, just as he remembered, with Ron and the others snoring in their beds. He opened the trunk and riffled through it...there it was. He pulled out the shimmering bundle of fabric, and closed the trunk quietly.

Throwing the cloak around his shoulders, he turned and swirled into invisibility. He crept down to the library, let himself into the restricted section, pulled several books from the shelves, and sat down to a long night of work.

Stars rose, and stars set, and Jimmy read. The stack of books next to him waned and grew, and still Jimmy read. Filch and Mrs. Norris did their rounds, and he stayed perfectly still, and continued reading.

Dawn was breaking as he put the last of the books away. He returned the cloak to Harry's trunk, and slipped back into bed in his little room a few minutes before Pomfrey bustled into the hospital wing to start the new day.

* * *

"How are you this morning, Jimmy?" Dumbledore's smiling face peeked around the door frame.

Oh, he looks so tired. Poor boy. Fourteen and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Harry sometimes looked like that...

"As well as can be expected, I guess, Uncle Albus," Jimmy replied. "Please, join me."

The chairs were full-size now, and Dumbledore sat at the table as Jimmy produced another glass of juice with a wave of his hand.

"My favorite. Thank you."

"You told me once..."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Uncle, I need to ask you a question."

"Go ahead, Jimmy."

"Why not let me live?"

Dumbledore nearly dropped his juice.

"Why not?" Jimmy continued. "I still have weeks left to me. I'm as powerful as he was, maybe even more so, you have said so yourself."

He stood up. Dumbledore's eyes held awe and a little fear as he watched the boy gripping the back of his chair.

"I don't have the scar," Jimmy continued, pulling his hair back to show off his unmarked brow. "Voldemort can't get to me through it. He can't reach me, but I can kill him. Better than Harry can. And I have my power, my magic, he doesn't. And I'll age more quickly, I'll get stronger much sooner than Harry would. I'll be at full strength in weeks...Harry won't reach his peak until years from now, when it could be too late."

He sat back down, and fixed Dumbledore with his gaze.

"I'm your best chance of defeating Voldemort. I'm here _now_. I won't be for long, but I don't need to be. That's fine with me. Let me do what Harry can't."

"That's what worries me," Dumbledore said. "I don't know that you can."

"But the prophecy said..."

"If that were all that mattered, Jimmy, then I could send Neville after him. But you and I both know that wouldn't work. Harry was marked by Voldemort at Godric's Hollow, and the effects of that are what worry me."

"He can be tracked by Voldemort. I can't."

"Yes, but Harry's scar..." Dumbledore sighed. "I can't be sure just yet, but I suspect that there is much more to that scar than I can confirm now. It's likely to be very important, and I can't risk losing it."

Jimmy stood up abruptly, and rounded the table in two long steps. He dropped to his knees next to Dumbledore, and grasped the older man's hands in his own. The green eyes blazed up at Dumbledore as Jimmy said,

"Uncle...please...don't kill me."

"I have no choice, Jimmy."

"Yes, you do. I can't change what happened to him," he jerked his head toward the door, "but I can change what's going to happen to me. And I don't want to die, not just yet.""

Dumbledore looked Jimmy squarely in the eye.

"I have to do what's best for wizardry. And for that, I need Harry. We all do. That's why you're here, and I have to trust you to do what's best for wizardry as well."

* * *

That afternoon, when Jimmy asked to see Hogsmeade, Dumbledore could not deny his request. At this point, Jimmy looked enough like Harry to not arouse suspicion, so there was no danger from him being seen; it would help dispel any rumors circulating about Harry's illness. He was to take Lupin along, just in case.

"In case of what?" Jimmy asked. But he was glad to spend some time with his Uncle Remus, and the two of them made their way to the little town.

Jimmy wanted to buy some presents, and Lupin accompanied him around the various shops. Soon the two of them were laden with packages of all descriptions, all wrapped and addressed to their recipients.

"Uncle, I want you to make sure that everybody gets these after I'm gone," he said, and Lupin had nodded. He had asked the shops to shrink them, but still their arms overflowed by the time they stopped for refreshments.

"Let me take these back to the castle," Lupin said. "Stay here, I'll be right back." And he loaded all of the bags onto his arms and disappeared out the door.

Jimmy found himself alone at a little table he remembered vaguely, nursing a butterbeer (had he ever actually had one, or was that Harry?) and staring off into space. For once, nobody was poking or prodding him or teaching him things he'd never use or telling him how he had to sacrifice everything to Save Harry. He was just a normal guy, in a normal cafe, having a normal moment of spacing out.

So this is what it would have been like, he mused. Harry needed more of this. _I_ needed more of this. But it's not to be, not for either of us. Nothing can be normal for us...well, maybe if Harry can defeat Voldemort, maybe then he can get on with it. That's something I could never have.

If I give up everything now, I give Harry a chance at a normal life someday...

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the commotion outside immediately. A scream shattered his reverie.

Lupin's scream.

He ran outside. The street was deserted, the shoppers hidden in stores and alleyways, except for the prone body of Lupin in the middle of the street. A dark shadow stood nearby in a shop door, watching, as a black figure like night flew past the prone body, swooping closer and closer to him...

Dementor! A dementor in Hogsmeade!

Jimmy acted without thinking, without stopping. He ran to stand next to his uncle, who lay unconscious and pale, and faced the floating demon with his arm outstretched. As the figure rounded upon him and began to head his way, Jimmy lifted his hand and thought of his childhood a few short days ago, when everything was simple and all he worried about was how to make Snape like him...and opened his mouth.

"EXPECTO PATRONEM ADME!"

The light erupted from his fingers and filled the street with blinding whiteness, forming a cone just as it had the first time when Lupin showed him the boggart years ago...the dementor floated on the other side of the light, bobbing like a buoy in the sea...Jimmy felt the power grow in his body, not wane, as the Adme grew, and electricity crackled in his hair as he spread his fingers and fixed the dementor with his gaze.

Lupin's eyes opened, and he saw Jimmy standing over him. Then, he saw the dementor. It floated for a bit, then began to move erratically as the spell began to suck its strength. A flapping, rushing sound filled his ears.

After what seemed an eternity, the dementor seemed to have had enough, and flew off over Hogsmeade. Out of the corner of his eye, Lupin saw the dark figure in the doorway flatten itself against the wall as if trying to disappear.

"Uncle, are you well?" Lupin could only nod.

Blue sparks were still leaping among the black spikes of hair as Jimmy turned and spoke.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"You...I heard you were injured...comatose...powerless..." The figure shrank away as Lupin began to sit up.

Jimmy helped Lupin to his feet, and turned to face the retreating figure. He stood tall, and called out to the shadow.

"Give my regards to your master, and inform him of what you have seen here today. Tell him that I am not only well, but stronger than ever!"

* * *

"I tell you, Albus, I've never been more proud of a student in my life," Remus said later over dinner. Jimmy blushed.

"I have had the best teachers," he said simply.

"And we have had some excellent material in you, Jimmy," Dumbledore returned.

Snape stabbed his fork into a chunk of potato. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter. Your innate ability is undeniable, but it is none of your doing. As much as it pains me to say so, your parents deserve the credit for that. However," he said, regarding the potato on the tines of his fork, "you have become quite accomplished under our tutelage."

Lupin expected Jimmy to frown. Instead, Jimmy stood up, circled around the table to where Snape sat, and hugged him from behind. Snape's expression softened just a tiny bit.

"Gotcha," Jimmy said.

Later that evening, as Jimmy slept in his room for the last time, Lupin and Snape sat by the bed in the hospital wing.

"Tomorrow," Lupin said, brushing the hair back from the pale forehead. The red scar was stark against the white skin. "Tomorrow, it will all be over."

"Over, yes," said Snape. "for him, but not for the rest of us."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Severus...he cast the Adme."

Severus looked up at him sharply. "He did?"

"Beautifully."

"How did he know about the spell?"

"Albus must have told him how Harry's accident happened. He's old enough to remember the Patronus, but he didn't know about the Adme until just before the accident."

Snape nodded.

"The dementor didn't stand a chance," Lupin continued. "But it was the Patronus itself that surprised me the most. Jimmy's Patronus isn't a stag...it's a phoenix."

The shock in Severus' eyes matched that in Lupin's. There was nothing to say...

"How can we do this, Severus? Trade one life for another? We are playing with these boys' lives..." He looked at the hand lying on the blanket. "I didn't think that this would be so difficult."

"Neither did I, Remus."


	8. Chapter 7

Jimmy wanted to spend his day with Ron and Hermione. Madam Pomfrey would not be ready until after dinner, and so the whole day was his to do with as he chose. Dumbledore readily agreed to excuse his friends from classes for the day, and so the three wandered down to the lake after breakfast and sat in a secluded area, not visible to the other students.

They looked across the gently rippling water. The castle rose on the hill behind them, and the small cemetery nestled into a clearing set back a little way from the lake.

"You and Harry used to come here sometimes," Jimmy said. "I remember those talks you used to have." He looked around. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied.

"Did you ever learn to skip stones properly?" Jimmy asked Ron. "You were always terrible at it." Ron laughed.

"Yeah, just a few months ago." He picked up a smooth rock, stood and slung it across the water. It hopped a few times across the smooth surface of the lake before dropping to the bottom.

Jimmy watched the stone with interest.

"I wonder if, if you threw it hard enough, the stone would skip forever," he said.

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "Sooner or later, it would slow down too much to keep going."

"So you throw another one," Ron said.

"But eventually, you'll run out of stones," Jimmy replied.

The three stared out over the lake for a while longer.

"I'm not sad about it, not any more," Jimmy said, looking at his feet. "There's no reason to be. I'm going to do what I was born to do."

Hermione grasped his hand and held it tightly.

"I guess I'm lucky that way...I know what my purpose in life is, and I know that I can achieve that goal. All I have to do is stay alive until after dinner." He laughed. "So far, so good, right?

"Harry hates it, you know. He hates having to be The Boy Who Lived, knowing that sooner or later he's going to face Voldemort -- oh, Ron, get over it, that's his _name_ -- and he will have the fate of the world riding on his shoulders in the toughest battle of his life. He hates that.

"But what he loves about it is the thought that he can do something to help the people he cares about. You two, Dumbledore, everybody...even Malfoy and Snape. He's had his moments when he is almost happy to be the one on the front lines. He figures that, since the battle has to come sooner or later, at least he'll be in a position to _do_ something, and not have to watch and wait.

"And he couldn't do it without you two. He can't afford to tell you that...he doesn't want you to feel like you have to help him out and put yourselves in harm's way. But I can tell you, and I think you should know."

Ron nodded mutely, and Hermione squeezed his hand painfully tightly.

"We'd do anything for him, you know," she said.

"Can you do something for me?"

"Name it," Ron said.

"After tonight. I want you to tell him about me. I want him to know that I did what I had to do willingly, and that he need not feel bad about any of it. And, I want you to tell him that he owes me one." He smiled.

"Done," Hermione said.

They turned their gaze back to the lake.

* * *

Morning turned to afternoon, and Draco found his thoughts turning to the boy he'd met in the bathroom. That boy would be older now, almost his own age, and almost ready for...whatever lay beyond that veil.

What was he doing now? Was he preparing himself? Was he pleading for his life? What would he, Draco Malfoy, do in the same situation? Could he bring himself to go willingly? Or would they have to drag him, kicking and screaming?

Crabbe and Goyle lumbered along beside him like trolls.

An odd thought struck Draco. Why should two useless lumps like Crabbe and Goyle get to live while that boy could not? Potter or not, Jimmy was worth a hundred of those two. What was the point in that?

It went against all of his ideas of right and wrong and merit, but Draco found no point in it at all.

Just then, as afternoon was turning to evening and the lights were lit in the Great Hall for dinnertime, a noise from overhead caught his attention. His two companions scanned the sky above them, but Draco saw it first...a lone figure on a broom, buzzing the Quidditch pitch. The flying style was unmistakable to the eye of someone who had played against him in many matches on that same pitch.

"Who's that?" Crabbe said.

"Looks like...Potter?" said Goyle, squinting at the sky.

"Don't be daft," Draco snapped. "Potter's on his back at Pomfrey's, not up on a broom. Must be somebody else."

The figure dropped into a nosedive and spiraled downward faster and faster. Draco remembered Harry using that move once against him, when they were both Seekers on their house Quidditch teams. Harry had dared Draco to pull out of the dive before him, and it wasn't until they were mere feet from the pitch that Draco had pulled out of the dive. Potter had continued downward until the very last moment, then wrenched himself out and streaked toward the Snitch, leaving Draco in the dust. It was that same maneuver, and Draco watched with the same grudging admiration as the figure pulled out just as he had done in the past, and whipped off back up into the sky.

"Definitely somebody else. Doesn't matter who." He pulled his gaze away and turned toward the Great Hall. "Let's go get some food."

* * *

Dinner was a somber affair except for Jimmy, who was his usual self. He teased Snape, chatted with Lupin, flirted lightly with Pomfrey, and treated Dumbledore with respect. His long frame had started to fill out, and he looked every bit the seventeen-year-old he had become.

As Jimmy and Lupin discussed the many non-defensive uses of the Riddikulus spell,   
Dumbledore watched the young man out of the corner of his eye. Jimmy was clearly Harry's twin, but he was just as definitely _not_ Harry Potter. The look in his eye was different, more confident, his manner was slightly more carefree, and the ease with which he addressed his seniors was something that Harry had never acquired.

Not yet, anyway. After tonight, anything would be possible. For Harry Potter.

The dishes were cleared away, and the conversation gradually ceased. All eyes were focused on the large clock on the wall that ticked away the minutes one by one.

Finally Pomfrey stood and said, "Jimmy, it's time."

The group filed back into Jimmy's little room, into which Harry's bed had been moved. A second hospital bed lay next to it, empty. Jimmy blanched as he entered the room, hesitated a moment, then went behind the screen in the corner.

The four adults stood waiting, not daring to look at each other, as Jimmy changed from his daytime clothes into the hospital gown he would wear. Finally, he emerged, and went to stand by the empty bed. There was silence for a moment, then:

"Why the long faces?" he laughed. Shocked, they looked up at the smiling face. "Sorry, but I had to get you out of standing there staring at your shoes."

He looked at his arms as if he'd never seen them before. "It's a strange feeling, to feel yourself living, blood pulsing through your veins, and to look at your flesh knowing that within a short while it will be dead." He looked around the room.

"I don't have much left to say. I think you know how I feel about all of you, and I think I know how you feel about me. You've given me something that Harry never had...a happy childhood. I grew up loved and taken care of, and, believe me, that's a gift that means more than I can say.

"I have to go now. But I go willingly, and I know that I can make a difference in my own way. That's really something I can hold on to."

He turned and walked over to the side of the other bed. As he crouched down to bring himself level with the pillow, not a single eye in the room missed the two identical faces side by side...one alive and animated, the other white and still.

"You owe me one, Potter. Nothing less than the best. Knock 'em dead."

He returned to the bed, and lay down on it slowly, lifting his bare feet off of the ground as if he couldn't bear to lose contact with it. He straightened himself on the bed, turned his head to Pomfrey, and said, "I'm ready."

Shakily, she cast the spell that would send him into oblivion.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: As promised...this plot (with some minor and major alterations) is from Star Trek: Enterprise, episode 62 "Similitude". My apologies to Manny Coto for abusing his concept so thoroughly.**

**

* * *

**

He was rising, rising... floating upwards...above where he felt comfortable and safe, but he couldn't stop...up, up...toward...what?

When Harry Potter awoke, the clock was chiming ten in the evening. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows of the hospital wing, and his eyes protested.

Someone moved to shade him from the glare, and he opened his eyes just a sliver. He saw fuzzy figures around him, faces turned to him, but he couldn't see very well.

A hand put his glasses onto his face, and he blinked at all of the people standing around his bed.

"Harry!" Ron cried. Hermione beamed at him, and Lupin smiled his wolfish grin. Even Snape seemed somehow happy to see him. Harry looked blearily around at the smiling faces.

"Enough, that's enough," Pomfrey said, hustling them all out. She looked very tired. "He needs his rest."

"I..." Harry croaked.

"I will stay with him, Poppy," said Dumbledore. He pulled up a chair and settled himself by Harry's side as the rest of his visitors left the room. "Now, Harry, you mustn't overexert yourself. Don't move."

"Professor..."

"Ah, ah, ah, what did I say?" Dumbledore conjured a glass of water and floated it over to Harry's lips. "Drink."

Harry obediently drank, and the glass of water settled itself onto his bedside table.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"You gave us quite a scare there, Harry," Dumbledore smiled.

"I...I was trying out a new spell..."

"And it backfired on you. Very badly."

"How long have I been here?"

"A little over a week."

Harry's hand wandered to the bandages on the back of his head.

"Bad?"

"Serious enough."

Harry nodded.

"Harry, I am going to check your magic levels. Just lie still, please."

Dumbledore retrieved his wand from his sleeve and ran it over Harry, scanning him. He made a satisfied sound and put the wand away again.

"Strong and solid, Harry. Excellent."

"What..."

Images and sounds started floating through his consciousness...a picture book with moving animals...two tiny arms wrapped around a much larger man in black...a bathroom stall...a stone splashing across clear water...

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, startled. Suddenly, his face straightened itself.

"Professor. I know what happened to me."

"Yes, Harry, you were knocked out by a surge of magic. You should not have tried that spell unsupervised."

"No, that's not what I mean and you know it."

Dumbledore's head snapped up. He looked closely at the boy in front of him.

"I remember. It's coming back to me...everything..." He took a deep breath. "_I can't change what happened to him, but I can change what's going to happen to me_."

Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's. From behind the glasses of Harry Potter, the eyes of Jimmy Potter stared back at him. He was temporarily speechless.

"I..."

Harry held up a thin hand to stop him.

"Professor, it's OK," he said softly. "Really, it's fine."

"I...we...had no idea this would happen. I'm so sorry..." Dumbledore trailed off, at a loss for words.

"I'm not. He's not."

Dumbledore's eyes got even larger. "Is he...with you?"

"Yes, Uncle Albus," and the smile was genuine.

"Jimmy...Harry, you know I can't be your Uncle Albus any more."

Harry nodded. "I know. The time for that is gone now. But I remember how happy he was..." His eyes stared off into space.

Dumbledore could think of nothing to say.

"Please, Professor..."

"Anything, Harry."

"Please don't tell anyone about this. I don't want them to have to know."

Dumbledore nodded. "It will be our secret. Are you going to be able to be like this?"

"I can't be sure, but I think I'm going to be fine," Harry replied after a moment. "This is going to take a little getting used to, though. I'm not going to go all loony on you. You can count on me. And he left me this."

Harry lifted a small box from his bedside table, and opened it. Inside was a small carved stone bowl on a pedestal. A few silvery wisps swirled around inside it.

"Before the operation, he bought gifts for everyone. This was mine. He knew I might be needing it, in case this was all too much."

Harry extracted a piece of paper from the box, and held it out to Dumbledore. Dumbledore took the paper and read it.

_Harry, this is a pensieve. Lupin or Snape or Dumbledore can help you with it if you need. I've left a few things in it that you might find useful. You know what to do._

_-- Jim_

Dumbledore carefully refolded the paper and returned it to Harry, who put it back in the box with the pensieve.

"As if he hasn't already given me everything."

"This is a burden I didn't think you'd have to carry, my boy."

"I have memories of a happy childhood surrounded by people who loved me. That's not a burden at all."

Dumbledore smiled to himself...then Harry said,

"What worries me is how I'm ever going to be able to look myself in the mirror now."

The old wizard looked up, startled.

"Professor," Harry said, urgently, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His mouth worked as he tried to find the words...

"How could you do this? I don't mean, make me have to live with this. Not that. I mean, how could you ... bring him into this world, and then do _that_?" He spoke with no accusation in his voice, just anguish.

Dumbledore sat motionless for a few moments.

"I didn't think that we had a choice, Harry. We needed you, and this was the only way to get you back. Everything else had to be put aside..."

"_Everything?_" Harry put his head in his hands, and ran his fingers stiffly through his hair; when they touched the gauze at the back of his head, the hands jumped away as if they'd been burned. "He gave up everything for me. Everything! He had no choice! How much more are we going to have to give, Professor? How much is too much? When will it all stop?" He looked around distractedly, as if seeking a door that wasn't there.

The bookcase was still open to the room beyond. A shadow passed across Harry's face, and he motioned at it. It slid back into place with a decisive thump.

"When Voldemort is gone, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry nodded mutely, and sagged. He raised his eyes to Dumbledore.

"I don't know if I could have done it. I don't know if I could have made that choice, Professor. I don't know if I would have been strong enough. I don't know if I will be able to be when I need to be."

His hands shook on the blanket. Dumbledore covered one of them with one of his own.

"Your strength has never ceased to amaze me through all of this. Just a little longer, Harry."

Harry nodded.

"But for the next few days, your only responsibility is to rest and recover. Not for the battle ahead, but just for yourself."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"May I ask something else?"

"Of course."

"I'd like to see him."

Dumbledore nodded, and a wheelchair rolled over to Harry's bed. He lifted himself into it, and Dumbledore pushed him slowly to the screen in the corner of the room.

The bed behind the screen contained a lone figure, covered with a sheet. Harry reached up and pulled the sheet away from the figure's face.

"He looks like me."

"Yes, Harry. Almost exactly the same."

Silence.

"Professor, I'd like to be alone now, if that's alright."

"Of course."

Dumbledore left Harry sitting by the bedside.

* * *

The next morning, they buried Jimmy's body. Despite all of Madam Pomfrey's and Professor Snape's protests, Harry insisted on attending the early-morning funeral. He sat in his wheelchair, wrapped in blankets, staring at the boy in the coffin as if seeing him for the first time. His face was unreadable.

Hagrid placed the lid on the coffin, and lowered it into the grave. As he went to work, the rest of the little party started back toward the castle. Lupin and Pomfrey supported each other, then Snape, Ron and Hermione made their way up the path. Dumbledore pushed Harry's wheelchair, even though he didn't have to; the chair could have rolled along by itself.

Harry was lost in his thoughts as the chair began to roll slowly along the path back to the castle. Dumbledore stared straight ahead, watching for obstacles, and didn't see the slight flash of light in the bushes along the side of the path. But Harry did.

He turned his head quickly enough to catch the eye of Draco Malfoy. His face was blank, but his eyes were red and swollen. Startled, Draco froze, then looked Harry in the eye and nodded.

Harry nodded back, and the little party continued on its way as the night faded and the sun rose over the castle.


End file.
